New York's Finest
by caffinate-me
Summary: She's a professional. This is just like any other day, any other job. Any other job where her companion for the evening is a millionaire playboy and her favorite author. A Pretty Woman AU prompt fill for GoodLuckStana.
1. Chapter 1

New York's Finest 

Chapter 1

The black dress hangs off her shoulders, loose fabric swaying back and forth over her breasts. Lanie had promised her she looked chic and expensive. She feels like a five year old playing dress up in her mother's closet.

The toe of her cobalt pump catches in a crevice in the sidewalk and she barely catches herself, a palm scraping along the brick of the building, before her ankle rolls. She shouldn't be doing this. This isn't her.

Kate sucks in a deep breath- a practiced, if mostly ineffective way to still her nerves. She needs to get it together. She's a professional. A professional who's been walking in four-inch heels since she was nineteen. This is just like any other day, any other job. Any other job where her companion for the evening is a millionaire playboy and her favorite author.

She straightens, dusting her raw palm on the skirt of her dress and with one more level exhale pulls the glass door to the building open.

"Hello," she greets the middle aged man behind the desk when he looks up from his half-filled crossword puzzle. Just at a glance she can tell 2 across should be 'helium'. Oxygen isn't a noble gas, but she pastes on a wide smile instead, and leans over the counter just far enough to give the attendant a pleasant view. "I'm here to see Richard Castle. You can tell him that Kate from NYF is here."

The man's- Edward according to his name tag- Adam's apple bobs as he peels his eyes away from her chest, the loose fabric of her top now pulled low and taut against the edge of the desk. If there is one thing Kate has learned over the years it's that men don't have a tendency to ask too many questions when confronted with the right amount of cleavage.

He gives a stuttered nod, one hand fumbling for the phone, and Kate takes a step back, smirking as Edward swipes a sheen of sweat off his brow with his free hand.

"Mr. Castle? Yes, yes sir. I'll send her right up." The phone clatters back to its cradle and Kate turns her attention back to the bumbling man behind the desk. "Ma'am, madam, um miss?"

"Yes?" Kate responds, her teeth catching her lower lip around her easy smile and Edward shifts in his seat.

"F-fifth floor. Apartment one."

"Thank you, Edward. You've been very helpful." She throws a wink over her shoulder as she turns toward the elevator, making sure to add a little extra sway to her step. Maybe Mrs. Edward will get a little extra something tonight.

Kate leans against the back wall of the elevator and pulls her compact out of her black clutch as the doors slide shut, effectively cutting her off from Edward's rapt attention. She dabs the makeup pad to her nose, a fruitless attempt to tame the shine. She shoves the compact away and is adjusting her barely socially acceptable length skirt around her thighs when a high pitched shriek shoots through her eardrum.

"Jesus!" Her body jolts, shoulder slamming against the mirrored wall of the lift, one hand flying to her ear.

"Sorry, Beckett." A voice crackles from the other end and Kate wiggles the earpiece in her ear with a finger. "Technical difficulties."

"No shit," she snaps back, her hand falling to press over her heart. "Just be happy I was alone or else I would've been blown."

"And not in the good way, eh Beckett?" The voice chuckles at it's own joke and Kate rolls her eyes.

"Keep it in your pant will ya, Tucker?" A huff flies off her lips and Tucker's voice crackles across the line again.

"Remember, we're recording everything, You just need to get him talking about his "research" with the mob."

"Oh, is that all?" Kate drawls as the elevator dings and she yanks at the hem of her skirt again before stepping into the hall. "I must have missed that in the briefing we were all in."

"No need for the sass, just figured you might like the reminder. You were laying it on pretty thick with the doorman, don't want you turning to the dark side."

"Yeah, well, the more you sell it the fewer questions they ask."

Tucker's retort is lost in a sea of static and Kate resists the urge to pluck the bud from her ear and stomp it into oblivion. One would have hoped that vice would have sprung for new, working equipment by now.

"Look guys, I hope you're actually getting what you need, because I'm only picking up half of what you say. Just leave this to me, I'll get him to talk." Kate strides down the hall as another string of gibberish gurgles over the line. She straightens her spine, shoulders shimmying as she pauses in front of the door, fist poised to knock.

Show time.

* * *

 **A/N** Prompt: Pretty Woman AU from casket-copop83. A thank you for her generous donation to GoodLuckStana.

Special thanks to airbefore for the help with this plot and Kate Christie for the beta.

This will be a short multi-chapter story. Hope you enjoy the ride!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The door swings opens a millisecond after Kate knocks and she is greeted with a flurry of activity.

"Come in, come in." A deep voice sounds and Kate pokes her head through the open doorway just in time to see a broad figure clad in a tuxedo jacket, boxers and socks disappearing around the corner. "I'm so sorry," the voice calls again from the depths of the apartment and Kate steps gingerly over the threshold. "There was a mix up at the dry cleaners so I'm running a tad behind. Bar's in the corner by the kitchen, help yourself."

Kate turns to shut the door with a soft click before wandering further into the apartment, spinning in a slow circle as she walks. A low whistle falls from her lips before she can stop it. It's very Tony Stark meets Bruce Wayne. Her eyes land on what appears to be a battle of superheroes versus Orcs on a chessboard in the corner. Huh. Her lips pull down into a frown. Meets Little Rascals.

"Mr. Castle?" She calls when a thump followed by a low curse floats from behind an open bookcase wall. That can't be effective soundproofing. "Are you okay?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine." The reply comes, louder with every word and Kate turns from her visual exploration of the multi-million dollar Manhattan loft to find a fully dressed Richard Castle striding across the living room toward her, his eyes focused on his cuff link.

"Mr. Castle, My name is Kate, I'm from NYF Escorts. I'll be your date for the evening."

"Wow." He stumbles to a halt five feet from her, his eyes wide as they study her face before falling to flit over her body. She can feel the flush as it starts at the top of her ears and heats her skin where his eyes roam. "They weren't kidding. You ladies really are New York's Finest."

"Excuse me?" The pleasant heat flairs with indignation but she deflates, arms crossed over her chest as Tucker's _"Easy. You're not a cop right now"_ echoes in her ear.

"I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I just mean you are stunning, Kate. Rick Castle, it's a pleasure to meet you, thank you for coming on such short notice."

Kate studies his extended hand with wary eyes before placing her own palm in his, careful not to squeeze too tight. "It's no problem. We're always happy to help out a client. And as you're probably aware, we are all about discretion at NYF, I won't say anything about my job if you don't."

The practiced speech falls off her lips with ease and Kate gives another mental thank you to their informant at the escort agency for tipping them off to Castle's last minute frantic phone call. Her stomach groans. Even if it meant she had been forced to go dress shopping on the NYPD's dime in lieu of dinner.

"Of course, discretion." Castle gives a quick nod. His palms rub up and down the thighs of his tuxedo pants, nervous energy spilling from his finger tips as his gaze leaves her to wander the room. On a quick turn he darts across the space to the bar cart in the corner. He pulls a bottle of Macallan from the back of the rack. He twists the bottle, giving her a full view of the label and Kate's jaw drops, saliva pooling under her tongue.

"Would you like a glass?"

"Huh?" Kate turns her head to look at him, eyes only peeling away from the label at the last second. "I'm sorry what?"

His answering chuckle breaks the tension in his shoulders and he wiggles the bottle. "A glass, would you like one?"

"Of the Macallan 25 year-old Sherry Oak? Hell yeah I'd like some! I mean, yes please."

Kate can feel her face flush scarlet again and Rick's chuckle morphs into a full laugh, bellowing from his stomach. She really needs to pull it together. "Scotch fan, I take it. I'm impressed- a woman after my own heart."

He presses a glass into her hand, his fingers whispering against hers, and a warmth races up her arm. Raising his own glass, he clinks the rim against hers. "Cheers."

"Cheers." She echoes, the words barely audible to her own ears. Something isn't right. The man, this renowned playboy author, a regular on page six, is nervous just being in the same room as an escort and he's supposed to be in deep with the Cardano crime family? The same Cardanos famous for their connection to trafficking drugs and women? No something isn't- Her shoulders jolt as Tucker's voice echoes in her ear.

" _You done fangirling or should we get you two a room?"_

Kate clears her throat, molars clenching, and pastes on a smile as she ignores both of the voices in her head.

"So, the Macallan. That's an impressive find."

"What can I say?" Castle replies, eyebrows wiggling. "I have connections. Speaking of," he continues, tossing back the last sip of his drink. "I actually have to stop and pick up something for our host on the way to the party so we should probably get going. The car should already be downstairs."

" _Connections? A stop? Good going, Beckett. You're not completely useless for a newbie."_

Tucker. She is really starting to hate that guy.

* * *

He hasn't tried to touch her.

Every other time she's assisted vice, the johns had been paws on since moment one, but not him. His fingertips brushed the small of her back as they crossed the the apartment building lobby, a barely there gesture to guide her toward the waiting car and driver. Since then his hands have been balled in tight fists on his thighs as he prattles on, bouncing from topic to topic. The man is a veritable walking encyclopedia of random trivia.

The car jolts to a stop and before she can get a word in edgewise Castle is pushing open his door and motioning for her to stay inside. "I'll just be a minute, then we'll be on our way."

Kate watches as he hurries across the sidewalk, forcing herself not to jump out and follow. She never thought it was possible for a man of six foot four to scurry until now.

" _Yo, Beckett, where's he going?"_

Kate's eyes flick to the driver. Once she's satisfied that he is immersed in his Facebook feed, she ducks her head, a curtain of auburn hair shielding her face as she murmurs. "Post office."

"Oh, we are so going to nail this guy."

Castle reappears striding back toward the car, chin held high, a bulging manila envelope gripped in his hand. Kate's stomach flops, her mind wandering to the copy of In a Hail of Bullets that stands sentinel on her nightstand.

Yeah, they probably are.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The party is in full swing when they arrive- men in tuxedos and women in cocktail dresses and ballgowns mingling in small circles around the room. Kate tugs on the hem of her skirt, willing it just an inch longer.

"Ricky!" A heavy Brooklyn accent belts out from across the room and Kate rolls back her shoulders as she turns to find Vincent Cardano walking down the stairs, arms stretched wide in welcome.

"Vinny, my man! Great party." Castle replies, and Kate's hand drops from where it's wound through his elbow as he steps toward the mobster.

"Thanks, Rick. It's great to see you, and who is this beautiful woman?" Cardano replies, his smile growing as he grasps her fingers in his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

"Oh, where are my manners? Vinny this is Kate, my uh- Kate. Kate- Vinny." Rick uses the hand that is not flirting with the small of her back to scratch the back of his neck as he shifts in his spot. Kate cocks her head to the side, watching him as he fumbles through the introduction.

"Kate, it is a pleasure to be able to host such a beautiful woman in my home."

"It's a pleasure to be here." Kate responds in kind, giving his hand an extra squeeze before wiggling her fingers out of his. "You have a gorgeous home."

The house really is gorgeous- with polished ash-grey wood floors, modern minimalist furniture and an oversized chandelier adorning the center of the main room, the Manhattan brownstone is just on the right side of ornate.

"Thank you, my dear. I wish I could take credit but my wife is the decorator in the family. I will let her know you think so. But if you will excuse us, I have to steal your date for a moment. We need to take care of some business and I wouldn't want to bore you. Please feel free to make yourself at home- the bar is in the back and make sure to try some of the hors d'oeuvres. The stuffed mushroom caps are exquisite."

"Oh, I don't mind tagging along." Kate chimes in, pasting on her most charming smile. She needs to get in that room, see the transaction herself or this entire evening is a bust.

"While I trust in Ricky's judge of character, I am sorry, sweetheart, but no one I don't know personally is allowed in my office. Now if you'll excuse us."

" _Beckett. Beckett you have to get back there."_ Tucker chatters in her ear and Kate watches, useless as they walk away, disappearing behind a closed door, guarded by two enforcers. Their muscles threaten to bulge out of their tuxedo jackets as they eye the crowd like every person is a criminal. Then again, the crowd is a who's who of New York's criminal element.

Kate shifts in her spot as the minutes drag on. Couples mill around her perch at the bottom of the stairs- the men's eyes lingering on her legs for a second too long, their dates chastising them and glaring at her as they walk past. Finally the door swings back open and Kate cranes her neck to see anything in the room before it once again clicks shut.

The package is nowhere to be seen and Rick's face is the epitome of calm as he and Cardano walk across the room to rejoin her. All the nervous energy that had plagued him on the ride over is gone.

"Now that the business is taken care of," Cardano resumes when they reach her, winding an arm around each of their shoulders. "Rick, you must come this weekend to the Hamptons."

"Sounds great. I could use a couple days away and Alexis isn't due back from her mother's until the beginning of the week. I'll call and have the housekeeper prep the house for me."

"Nonsense. You'll stay with me. _Everyone_ ," Vinny stresses as he looks between them, one hand squeezing each of their shoulders. "Is staying with me. And be sure to bring your girl here. We need someone to pretty up the place- balance out your ugly mug."

Kate's eyes widen as her head snaps up. She peers around Cardano to find Castle staring down at her with a mirroring panicked expression. Crap. No- she _cannot_ accompany him to the Hamptons while pretending to be an escort. And yes, he's been a perfect gentleman so far, but still there will be assumptions and expectations and beds. No, this cannot happen.

Cardano laughs but Castle is already talking before Kate protest. "Oh, Vinny, I'm sure she would love to but Kate is very busy and it's such short notice-"

"Nonsense. I _insist_. If you're there, and I know you'll be there, right Rick? I expect to see her lovely face too. Especially if you're as in love as you say. Would hate to think you're trying to pull a fast one on me, eh, Ricky?"

A dark cast falls over Cardano's jovial expression and Castle sways back as he swallows hard.

"Well, of course if you insist, how could we say no?

"Perfect." Cardano rubs both of their arms before letting them go to clap his hands together. "I'll see you both Friday."

Vinny turns, belting out to another guest with outstretched arms as he walks away from the stunned couple.

"What the hell just happened?" The words spill from her lips as her fist flies out to connect with Castle's shoulder and she cannot bring herself to care. Screw her cover, screw this mission. She _cannot_ spend the weekend in the Hamptons with him. She has a life. She has a job. And- fuck- Will. She has a boyfriend.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I just- it's Vincent Cardano. Do you know who he is? You don't say no to Vincent Cardano especially when he _insists_ on something unless you want to end up at the bottom of the Hudson sporting the latest fashion in cement footwear."

"Yes, I know who Vincent Cardano is but that doesn't mean I can go to the Hampton's for the weekend. I have a life and if you haven't noticed I'm not actually your girlfriend." Her finger gestures between them in a frantic motion as panic swells in her chest. "And we're not _in love_."

"Yes, I know and I really am sorry. I can tell him you got sick, or that you couldn't get out of work if you insist but, please, if you just do this one favor for me I can pay you anything you want. Five grand? Ten? I just- I can't screw this up right now. Please." Sweat starts to bead at Castle's brow line as his eyes dart around the party, his body once again a live wire of nervous energy.

" _This is a great opportunity to get to the bottom of this case, Beckett. We need to know what Castle is into with the Cardanos."_ Tucker's voice echoes in her ear.

"Fine." Kate huffs out with gritted teeth. "I'll do this for you but no funny business okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I promise. Anything you want. Now, can I get you a drink?" He plucks two flutes of champagne off of a tray and hold one out to her- a cool air falling around him like he hadn't been close to falling to his knees begging a second before. Kate throws back the entire drink in one smooth motion and places the empty glass back on the tray only to pick up another one.

"You're gonna have to keep them coming."

* * *

His eyes haven't left her since they exited the party. He turns in his seat, head tilting, assessing, and Kate's patience is close to reaching its breaking point.

"So, Kate. Where are you from?"

The question startles her as it breaks the awkward silence in the back of the car.

"Oh, uh, Chicago," she recites, recalling the information sheet citing her backstory.

"Ah okay, that explains it."

"Explains what?" He's noticed something. This isn't good. Her cover cannot be blown, not now, even though that _would_ get her out of The Hamptons.

"Your accent. You're not bridge and tunnel, not Boston, no southern or Midwestern twang. That tells me Manhattan, maybe, or another metropolitan city, like Chicago."

"That's impressive. You figured that out just from hearing me talk?" Kate turns to stare at him, one eyebrow quirked as he beams back at her, all nine-year-old boy and no trace of the playboy author. Her agitation evaporates and she angles her body so she's facing him, her elbow propped on the seat back.

"What can I say, I have a gift for reading people."

"Really?" The word comes out as a challenge and he shifts in his seat, readying himself.

"Yep. Take you for example. You should not be here. You're smart, sophisticated. You obviously read and are informed on current events, politics, even opera. You were holding your own in every conversation in there."

Kate's mouth goes dry as Castle gestures toward her with a flick of his wrist, lost in his assessment.

"I'm guessing you went to college, probably a pretty good one. You had more options, more socially acceptable options, and yet here you are. Why? You like the thrill of doing it for the money, Kate?"

The car jerks to a stop, the driver announcing their arrival back at Castle's loft. Neither of them move, eyes locked and anger burns from deep inside Kate's gut as Castle continues to stare at her with that smug, expectant expression. Tearing hers eyes away, she reaches for the door, fingers fumbling with the handle until it flies open and she spills onto the sidewalk. Castle scrambles out of the car after her.

The anger bubbles up through her lungs, painting her chest crimson- Anger at her captain for strong arming her into taking this assignment. At Cardano for his stupid weekend invitation. At Castle for insinuating that she-

"I'm not a fucking whore, Castle, so screw you." She stares at him with wide-eyes, any further words dead on her tongue as the anger evaporates. She really said that and it was the truth, maybe not the whole truth but enough to make her stomach feel like it's being shredded from the inside. "I've got to go."

"Kate." His voice is soft, and his fingers catching the meat of her hand as she attempts to walk away. She sucks in a shaky breath, willing the tears that have been a constant threat not to fall. This day just needs to be over. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate that you were- I'm sorry. Sometimes I talk too much, but I would be very grateful if you would still come with me to the Hamptons this weekend. No expectations, I promise."

Tucker's voice crackles in her ear and her chin dips in the slightest of nods. Anything for the job.

"I'll see you Friday, Mr. Castle."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The scent of roasted garlic lingers in the hallway- a sure sign that Mrs. Bocelli is using a bout of insomnia to simmer a batch of her famous spaghetti sauce again, and Kate's stomach growls for something other than champagne and shitty precinct coffee. She had been too distracted at the party to eat anything and she had spent the subway ride home from the precinct trying to think of any way out of the weekend in the Hamptons.

Kate lets herself into her apartment and her nose crinkles as the illusion of dinner disappears leaving only lingering traces of spray air freshener and rotting garbage in it's wake. The duffle bag on her shoulder slips off and she lets it fall to the dusty floor of the entry. Her shoes land with twin thuds in middle of the living room when she kicks them off, and she winces as the bare soles of her feet touch the grainy floor. She really needs to clean. Instead she wipes the soles of her feet on her calves and pads over to the barren kitchen. One hand flops up to cover her jaw cracking yawn as the other reaches to open the cabinet.

She's still leaning on the kitchen counter, propped up by elbows and willpower, halfway through a bowl of sugar coated puffed cereal masquerading as part of a healthy meal when the bedroom door creaks open. A thump and a muffled curse have her rubbing two fingers against her throbbing temple as she shovels a spoonful of artificially colored sugar into her mouth, too exhausted to care.

"Jesus, Kate, is it really that hard to put your shoes on the rack. I bought it for a reason." Will grumbles as he bends over to pick up her discarded pumps, his boxer clad posterior sticking straight up into the air.

"Sorry," she mumbles back mid chew. "Was starving."

Will rounds the corner into the tiny kitchen, fingers scratching through his short crop of sandy brown hair. He brushes a quick kiss to the side of her head- lips barely connecting to skin, chin bumping her ear- on his way to grab his own bowl. Each clank of the spoon on the edge of his bowl chips away at her nerves and tension shoots up the side of her head when he slurps at the milk on his spoon. He dumps the dishes in the sink, not even bothering to run the water over them and Kate can already smell the rotten milk that will greet her in the morning.

"Where were you, anyway, dressed like that?" Will asks as she rinses water over her own bowl and stows it in the dishwasher, careful not to get even a drop of water on his discarded dish. Petty? Yes. Effective communication? Probably not.

"I texted you earlier. I was helping vice with an undercover op." Kate explains as she pushes off the counter, padding away from him toward the bedroom. "I'm going to be gone this weekend for it too."

"The whole weekend? What the hell for?"

Stretching her hands above her head, Kate shakes her shoulders as she walks and rolls the kinks out of her neck as her arms drop then curl up behind her back, tugging at the thin zipper of the dress.

"It's no big deal," she shrugs off the op, giving her boyfriend a synopsis, swallowing the fact that her favorite author is the mark, as she shimmies out of the dress.

Will props himself against the bedroom door jamb, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown painting his lips.

"There's no officer in Vice who can do it?"

"I didn't ask, Will," Kate bites out as the dull throb in her temple begins to pulse. "When your boss gives you an assignment, do you ask why they didn't give it to someone else first?"

He holds up his hands. "Was just a question, Katie. Don't snap my head off."

Her spine stiffens, the nickname he knows she hates making the chip on her shoulder shoot tension through her neck. Without another word, Kate marches into the en suite, the slam of the door reverberating through the tiled space.

Scalding water washes down over her and Kate stands under the spray, skin burning. The tension is just starting to drain from her shoulders, knots unwinding in her back, when the door creaks open and she peeks out around the side of the curtain to find Will sitting on the closed toilet seat, hands clasped between his plain blue boxer clad thighs.

"Can I help you?" Kate questions as her right eyebrow quirks sending a stream of water cascading down her temple.

"I have that interview in Boston on Friday." Will responds his gaze trained on his hands and Kate disappears back behind the curtain.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I was hoping you would come with me. See the city. I think you'd like it there."

"We both know I can't leave New York, Will."

"Can't or won't?"

Kate freezes, hands coated in conditioner. "Both."

"You deserve to be happy, Kate."

She closes her eyes, letting out a sigh as her body sways back until her spine hits the water-warmed tile. "Good luck in Boston, Will. I'll see you when you get back."

"Should I come back?"

"That's up to you."

Kate peeks around the edge of the curtain as the door snicks shut and pounds a fist against the shower wall, relief welling where anger and sadness should be. What was worse? Bawling over an imminent break up or not feeling anything at all?

* * *

She zones in and out throughout the briefing Friday morning. It's not anything that she hasn't heard already. She will be outfitted with a camera and mic at all times. There'll be a team of two plain clothes detectives stationed in a house down the road. She has a new fake ID and a couple credit cards under her fake name: Caitlin Lane. Caitlin. She forced her eyes not to roll on the spot. She still hasn't received a straight answer as to why they felt the need to change her first name too.

Tucker rambles on about tactical strategy, his well-toned chest puffed out in a display of self-importance and her mind drifts off once again. She hasn't heard from Will since she woke up alone in bed Wednesday morning. His clothes were still in her hamper, his extra razor in it's spot next to sink but he's been sleeping at his own place for the past two nights. Or at least she presumes he has been since he hasn't called. But then again, she hasn't called him either.

"Richard Castle."

Her attention snaps back up as the captain slaps a picture of the author to the utilitarian white board. "We learned of his possible involvement with a crime family, under the guise of research for his latest novel, through an anonymous tip. This is a man with connections in our community. The mayor, the chief of police, the media. This can be dangerous for us. No matter what we do, we tread lightly, we find evidence. We do everything by the book. When we take him down we don't want him getting away on a technicality. And if he does-" The captain's eyes sear into hers. "- there will be hell to pay."

Kate forces her eyes not to waver, even as her mind drifts to the novel nestled hidden at the bottom of her work bag. She was about to ruin the life of the man who had helped save hers. Fuck.

* * *

Once again her fingers itch to yank down the hem of the miniskirt as she struts down the sidewalk toward his apartment building on the corner of Broome Street. It's three o'clock on Friday afternoon and she's not exaggerating as she mutters to herself that she'd give her right arm to be on her couch in her comfortable sweats- the ones with the holes in the pockets- rather than teetering around in a neighborhood she can't even afford in her dreams, in four inch heels and an outfit that would make even her teenage self blush. The sun beats down, tanning the thin strip of skin exposed peeking out between the bottom of the black crop top and top of the skirt and she curses whichever chauvinistic, sadistic bastard from Vice picked the outfit.

"I'm so glad you like it, Beckett. I made sure there were three similar ensembles in your bag." Tucker's voice filters in through her earpiece and Beckett's responding curse is cut off when Castle strolls out from the front door of his building, a pair of fashionably faded indigo jeans hanging from his hips and a simple white button down covering his chest.

"Damn." The word escapes under her breath and it's only by the grace of god, or whatever existing higher power, that Tucker doesn't hear and throw it back in her face.

"Kate! You made it." Castle flashes her a carefree, thousand-watt smile, but she manages to catch a flicker of relief in his eyes before he dons his shades.

"Of course. We have a deal."

"Right right. Oh, here, let me take your bag." He holds out a hand, his fingers recoiling as hers tighten on the strap cognizant of the secrets hidden inside.

"I uh-"

"Oh, right. Sorry, business first," he replies to her hesitation by pulling a thick envelope from the side pocket of his own weekend bag. "Five thousand. I can give you the other half when we get back."

"That's fine." Her hand wraps around the envelope and she swallows the thick pool of saliva that's gathered at the base of her throat. She takes her time stuffing the money in her bag, using the few extra seconds to school her thoughts. She closes the zipper with a flick of her wrist and pastes on a brilliant smile as she looks back up at him. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Castle."

Kate's eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets as he pops the trunk of the cherry red Ferrari parked at the curb. The keys dangle from his fingers, and as she sets her bag in the tiny trunk, hers tingle with the want to reach out and snatch them from his grip. A car like this can reach 120 easy on the open roads leading out of her city. Her hand drops as the trunk slams shut and she makes a mental note to take her Harley out for a spin once she gets back into town. It's been too long.

"Look, Kate." Castle's fingers catch hers as she rounds the car toward the passenger side door, and her breath catches in her throat as a bolt of electricity shoots up her arm. He drops her hand as if he's been burned and it only takes one look at his face to know he felt the same jolt.

"Sorry! I- uh- I mean. I just want to apologize again for how I acted the other night. I had no right to pry, or to insinuate that you were in any way a whore. And for the record, I don't think that about you."

Kate swallows hard, forcing down the lump in her throat, flashes of drunken nights not long enough gone parading through her memory. How many times had she fallen into some nameless man's bed in an attempt to dull the throbbing pain of loss? How many times had she thought the same things as he had insinuated?

She shakes her head, forces a weak smile to her lips. "It's fine. But just some ground rules- some escorts are fine with _indulging_ with their clients. I'm not one of them. I'll hang on your arm. I'll laugh at your jokes and dance with you after dinner. I'll pretend to be your girlfriend. I'll even kiss you goodnight for show but the minute the lights turn off don't expect any added benefits. We clear?"

"Crystal." Castle replies, his hands now hooked safely in his front pockets, and Kate resists the urge to smile at his chastised expression. "So…"

"We should get going. Beat the traffic."

"Right." He scurries around her to open her door and she slides into the passenger seat, Tucker's voice crackling in her ear.

"Aw look, the mob lackey is a gentleman."

"Can it, Tucker." She mutters just as Castle opens his door and plops down behind the wheel. The engine revs and she can't stop the thrill that uncurls in her belly.

Here goes nothing.


End file.
